


THE PROMISE OF TOMORROW

by antigonick



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 14:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11761518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigonick/pseuds/antigonick
Summary: And he would gladly start a war for another taste of her lips.(or: in which Pieck struggles to cook and Porco is surprisingly good at it.)





	THE PROMISE OF TOMORROW

**Author's Note:**

> there might be some grammatical errors or typos bcs i'm such a lazy ass

Porco Galliard turned over to face the wall, closing his eyes tight to find slumber. It was a curse to share a room with Reiner, who continuously withering in his own sleep, possibly having another nightmare again. However, it was not his faint whimpers that brought trouble to Porco's sleeping schedule, but the memories of Ymir that kept flashing within his mind. Porco remembered vividly of the blonde girl whom she called Krizta. . . or Historia? Though he did not understand why Ymir had always stolen glances to the girl silently.

Sighing, Porco brought himself into a sitting position. He ruffled his hair in peeved, groaning faintly. He should have slept by now, since tomorrow he would have to train again with the rest of warriors for an upcoming fight. However, though the moonlight was streaming through the window, gloriously shining amidst the darkness of the sky, he found himself troubled in his sleep. Porco couldn't be sure if it was Ymir's fault or the other past titan shifters who held the power before him.

In defeat, he pushed himself from the mattress, shrugging into his military jacket to look for fresh air outside. Quietly, he stole a last glance to Reiner over his shoulder, who muttered incoherent words in his sleep with closed eyelids. Porco narrowed his gaze on Reiner's sleeping figure. Since four years ago he'd come back to Marley, he became much more pitiful and cowardice. Porco couldn't help but felt disgusted by him.

At least, when he opened the door, the corridor was quiet and still. Reiner's quiet whimpering were no longer be heard from outside, with the sound of cool breeze of night crashing throughout the corridor. Porco let out a faint yawn as he walked into the darkness, with only the electric lamps on the wall shining upon his way.

He pushed his hands into his pocket, freezing due the cold. When he had been only a cadet, Porco remembered of how often he couldn't sleep. Sometimes, he'd drowned his whole body in blanket to try memorizing how home felt like. Marcel had been the one who came into his room to check on him, with a small lamp in his grip.

It was actually prohibited, for them to see each other during night and not training ground. In order to become warriors, the twins were purposely separated to harden their feelings to each other, making them a true pair of fighters and future shifters. But Marcel hadn't seemed to care about such things. He kept visiting him, whispering old tales of Paradis Island and the devils who lived in it to lure Porco to sleep. By hearing his soft voice, Porco let his eyelids drop to slumber. And when he woke the next morning, Marcel was already gone.

Porco curled a fist inside his pocket. It had been such a long time since Marcel left him all alone in this world. Porco longed for his patient smile, and his calming voice—

A loud thud interrupted his thinking. Porco froze in his step, narrowing his gaze at the darkness before him. On the edge of the corridor, a light streaming into the vacuous air, inviting him to come closer toward it. As another thump echoed, Porco fastened his pace toward the light, then entered the kitchen room without any hesitation. His gaze fell upon the shattering glass on the floor, and the disordered bowls above the table. It was none other than Pieck who caused this mess.

She struggled to bring her body upward, holding the chair tight. Her legs trembled as she tried to stand, but she lowered her knees to the ground when she noticed Porco staring down at her intently.

Pieck curled her lips into a soft smile. The long strands of her dark hair fell upon her cheek. "Pokko, I thought you were asleep already."

At the nickname, Porco wrinkled his nose, annoyed of how childish it sounded when it left Pieck's mouth. "What are you doing here?"

Pieck glanced at the shattered glass, and the bowls above the table. "Well. . ." she said, smiling innocently at Porco. It made her sleepy eyes turn into crescent moons. "I tried to walk on my own. It didn't end as I expected."

Porco let out a peeved groan. "It's your own fault for not bringing your crutch with you. Try to not make any noise." He turned to leave the room, but another crash erupted into the air, forcing him to glower over her.

"Sorry," Pieck muttered. She moved the pieces of bowl aside, careful enough to not wound her own palm. She sighed faintly, trying to bring her body upward with the support of the chair in her grip.

Porco clicked his tongue. He walked over the pieces of glass, approaching her in careful steps. As he was near enough, he brought her hand over his shoulder, trying to uplift her with all his might.

A kind smile widened across her lips. "Thank you," she whispered as Porco circle around the table to sit on a chair with no shattering glasses beneath it. She heaved another weary sigh as she sat, looking upward at Porco. In careful motion, she placed her elbows above the table, far enough from the bowls. "Well?"

A scowl appeared on his forehead. "What?"

Pieck lifted a shoulder. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

Porco thought of Ymir's memories and how her gloomy past affected his slumber. But he refused to say anything about that. "Why are _you_ here in the first place?"

Pieck waved her hand over the bowls and shattered glasses. "I wanted to cook for the warriors. It's almost morning after all."

The last time Porco had ever tasted Pieck's cooking, he held the urge of vomiting it all to the ground. It would be his first and last try, for he would never want to taste it again. But Zeke seemed to encourage Pieck to cook more, though he only took a spoon or bite and uttered excuses to not eat it again. Damned him for making her this way.

"No," Porco insisted. "Your food—"

Pieck shot her eyebrows upward, hopeful of Porco's response. "What about it?”

Porco stopped himself. _Your food tastes like shit_ , he wanted to say. But no word slipped out of his tongue. He did not even know why. He shouldn't have cared about her at all. "You can't even stand properly. How can you even manage to cook?"

She blinked. "I suppose you're here to help?"

Porco stared at her in bewilderment. "Hell no."

"It might help you to sleep," said Pieck. "When you're tired, it will be easy to find slumber."

Porco shook his head. "I'm not good at cooking. I don't know anything about that."

It was a prepared lie, at least. Since Marcel had gone years ago, Porco had been forced to take care of himself. The food in military wasn't something he could enjoy, and he sneakily stole a recipe book to learn how to cook. He failed for various times, learning from his own mistakes repeatedly until he became more familiar with each ingredient and how to use it for better cooking. It had been such a long time since he cooked, but he still remembered the easiest recipe, at least.

"We can try." Pieck nodded at a book above the table, covered underneath the disordered bowls and glasses. "There is a recipe there, perhaps—"

"I want to sleep right away," Porco interrupted. He pivoted to approach the door, leaving Pieck all alone siting in the kitchen.

Pieck did not even look at him for a last glance, merely uttered, "Alright." Then she tried to stand again, but stumbled upon her own steps. She still managed to hold her weight onto the edge of table, though she trembled uncontrollably.

Porco cursed an oath. He darted toward her, placing her hand over his shoulder to help her sit again. Pieck blinked at his reappearance.

"You're going to help?" Pieck asked as she slowly sat, flashing a hopeful look.

Porco considered for a moment. He stared at her crumpled military jacket, of how it filled with debris and dust. At last, he shifted his gaze on her barefoot that touched the cool floor without any protection at all.

"You need a crutch," claimed Porco. "And slippers."

Pieck widened her eyes in excitement. "So—"

"Don't get me wrong," interrupted Porco. "I will only give you a hand this time."

"Okay," said Pieck. Her gaze softened on him. "It will be this time once."

Before they began, Porco brought her crutch and slippers from her room, and placed them near Pieck as possible. He let her to put her feet into the slippers, while he carefully gathered the shattering glasses onto a rectangular tray and threw it into the garbage. As they both finished, Porco uttered some ingredients, while Pieck struggling to find them in the shelves. For a moment, Pieck stared at him, wondering why he didn't use the recipe book as his guide, but she didn't say anything in the end.

As dawn gloriously emerged on the horizon, Zeke found them placing the breakfast food above the table, now clean and placed orderly with glasses of hot tea near the bowls. Zeke raised an eyebrow at Porco's absence, but did not say anything as Pieck offered a spoon of cream soup she'd made with Porco.

"Well?" Pieck asked as Zeke swallowed the soup cream into his throat. He gave her an approving look.

"Hmm," Zeke curled his lips downward. "Not bad, at least."

Pieck beamed at the response, making her stumble all over again. Porco steadied her body by placing his hands over her arms. Pieck held her crutch in tight. "Careful, will you?" he hissed at her.

"Do you want to try a bowl?" Pieck ignored Porco entirely, waving her free hand over the huge pan behind her. "We still have plenty."

Zeke straightened his back. "Sure. Why not?"

Porco stared at him in horror. There was no excuse for any meeting or merely looking fresh air. The Zeke Yeager he had known would do so. But he didn't. And Porco wasn't sure if Zeke was currently possessed by a demon or not.

Pieck brought a bowl from the kitchen table to Zeke, gesturing him to sit. She watched him as he took another spoon, eagerly to speak of Porco's involvement in the process of their cooking. Zeke hummed in agreement, uttering of how aromatic it was. Porco narrowed his gaze in suspicion. Surely, it would taste pretty bad. Though he did not understand why Zeke had to endure it all only to please Pieck of her work.

When Zeke finished his eating, Pieck continued talking to him about the cooking, standing by the door with the support of her crutch. Curious, Porco stole a spoon from his own bowl, hopefully wouldn’t immediately regret his act.

However, as the cream melted in his tongue, he was surprised to find how soft and savory it was. Perhaps he could make a better hand for her to cook after all.

 

* * *

 

 

Thankfully, Porco was able to find slumber the next night.

A croaking sound of his door interrupted his sleep, making him groan in both weariness and fury at the disturbance. He blinked rapidly at the shadowed figure by his door, clearing the vision in the hazing reality surrounding by him. He expected of someone important— but it turned to be Pieck, cloaking under the military jacket, with her long hair fell upon her shoulders.

Porco shot a blazing look at her. "What are you doing here? I was sleeping."

"There's something I need to tell you," she murmured, slowly closing the door behind her. Pieck glanced at Reiner briefly for any indication of consciousness. When she found none, she approached Porco with her crutch, sitting down on the edge of his mattress carefully.

"Seriously?" Porco raised an eyebrow, pushing himself to sit. "And what is it?"

Pieck stared at his blanket, drowning in her own thought. Then she managed to say, "A new recipe I found—"

"Dear god, Pieck." Porco groaned in frustration. "You woke me up at this hour only to talk about a _recipe_?"

A twitch appeared on the edge of her lips. "It's beginning to dawn, and Zeke asked me to cook for another breakfast yesterday."

Porco let out a peeved sigh. "Well, if Zeke—" he paused, narrowing his gaze over Pieck's weary dark circles and her pale skin. "When was the last time you slept, anyway?"

Pieck shot her eyebrows upward at the question. "An hour ago. I woke up earlier to cook this morning."

Porco watched the darkening lines underneath her sleepy eyes, visible even in the dim of light. Her hair, though disheveled as usual, making her skin much paler than before, a contrary to its night sky color.

"Seriously?" said Porco. "You're not that good at lying."

Pieck went quiet, she averted her gaze, lowering her head to hide her face from him. "Sorry, I shouldn't have awoken you at all." She stood slowly, leaning onto her crutch in stillness. "I can cook on my own, not to worry."

Confusion filled his thoughts. For certain, he did not utter some painful words, did he? He merely asked why she did not sleep at all, and it was surely unharmed. Moreover, he'd promised to only help her once, it was her who should've felt any sorry for him.

As Pieck approached the door to leave him, Porco said, "Wait."

Pieck glanced over her shoulder, waiting for him to speak again. With a faint sigh, Porco grabbed his military jacket and shouldered inside it. He pushed his hair backward as he approached her.

"You'd still need my hands," Porco smirked faintly, lifting a shoulder. "Right?"

A glint flashed within her eyes, making a faint smile appeared on her lips. "Come on, I'll show you the recipe."

Pieck led him into the corridor, swallowed by darkness. The sound of her thumping crutch echoed into the vacuous air, it was the only thing Porco could hear in this silent night.

In his side vision, he stole a glance to Pieck quietly. It was the first time he truly saw Pieck as she was; of how her sharp nose pointing ahead, her long and soft lashes matching her night sky hair, the paleness of her skin. At some point in his life, he'd wondered why Pieck was too pale from the rest of his comrades. She rarely talked about her troubles to anyone, even Zeke, who seemed to be close to her.

Since they were cadets, Pieck had only smiled thinly when she fell from a combat training. It made Porco's stomach curl in disgust. She should've told him it hurt her, or yelled at him for breaking her this way. But she didn't. She merely claimed she was truly fine and he needn't to worry about her.

"Is something on your mind, Pokko?" said Pieck. Though she kept her gaze forward, she seemed to notice him staring at her quietly.

Porco averted his gaze. "Nothing." He circled his shoulders before saying, "What hour is it?"

"Four in the morning, perhaps?" said Pieck. "It was the last time I saw my clock."

As they entered the kitchen, Porco was surprised to find how orderly the bowls and glasses were placed. The stove had been cleaned, its metal glinted in the darkness. Some dirt and debris were still visible on the floor, but there was no pieces of shattering glasses above it, making it safe to step over.

"Did you clean it?" asked Porco, he couldn't help but wonder.

A faint hum left her mouth. "It would be easy for us to cook in clean environment, don't you think?"

Raising an eyebrow, Porco asked, "On your own?"

Pieck shrugged her shoulder, flashing a thin smile. "I prefer to do things alone."

Porco let out a scoff. He approached the kitchen table, flipping open the recipe book.

No wonder why Pieck had always been bad at cooking. The recipe book itself indicated some false procedure and incorrect ingredients. At the previous night, Porco had refused to read the book, and wanted to cook on his own way. He should've read it and told Pieck to throw it immediately into the garbage.

"There's no such method in cooking," said Porco, glaring at the recipe book in his grip. "This book is shit."

"Hmm?" Pieck walked toward him, peeking over his shoulder to read the recipe. "Well. . . I've always thought that, actually. But there's no other book."

"Really?" Porco raised an eyebrow. He turned slightly to face Pieck. At this close distance, her delicate skin touched his own for the briefest moment, and her soft breath sent a ticklish sensation across his skin. Though he tried to focus on the reality, her presence gave his chest a rapid beating. "Then we should write our own recipe."

Pieck blinked. A moment passed before she finally uttered, "You said you don't know anything about cooking."

A spark of heat thundered over his back. "I was tired, and didn't even think straight."

Pieck tilted her head to the side. "Is that so?"

"Anyway," said Porco, dropping the book above the table again. He circled around Pieck to approach the door. "I think it's better if we write it down in your room."

"Why not yours?" Pieck stepped closer to him, walking slowly on his side.

"I don't want to wake Reiner," Porco wrinkled his nose. "He's always having weird dreams."

They went into the corridor, passed over a series of closed doors and electric lamps until they reached a particular door with crooked handle, standing proud amidst the other doors. Pieck took a key from her pocket, placing it into the key hole, and twisted to the side until a clicking sound echoed.

It had been such a long time since Porco visited her room, but the sight of her books scattered over the rounded table remained familiar in his memory, as if it did not change since Porco saw it last. The blanket over her mattress almost fell to the ground, stretching around the edge of the bed. If it wasn't for the lamp hanging on the ceiling, the room would be swallowed in the darkness, but even the dimness of it barely gave Porco enough vision to take a look of her room entirely.

Pieck did not share a room with anyone, unlike Porco who did with Reiner. It was no wonder why her room was smaller than any others. At one time, Porco had wondered why this room was chosen for Pieck, though he never asked why.

As they entered inside, Porco closed the door behind him. Pieck walked to the rounded table, opening the drawer beneath it. She took a crumpled notebook and pen, and seated on the edge of her bed.

Porco sat beside her. The notebook in her grip looked very wrinkled and ancient, with its brownish cover and dusty smell. He waited until she opened it at a random page, and flapped it to the next page quickly as her written notes appeared.

She stopped on an empty page, holding a pen in her free hand to start writing.

"So, what is this new food you want to make?" asked Porco.

Pieck narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "I've always wanted to make little cheese sparrows, but I don't know if the ingredients in the kitchen will fulfill our needs."

Raising an eyebrow, Porco asked, "Do you even know how to cook it?"

Pieck curled her lips into a soft smile. "You do, right?"

Porco heaved a sigh. For certain, he had tried once to cook it, and he was quiet satisfied with the result. But it had been a long time. "Give me that."

Without hesitation, Pieck offered him the notebook and her pen. Porco tapped the tip of pen toward the empty page, drowning in his thinking.

He noticed Pieck watching him, but he didn't say anything. "How did you learn to cook, Pokko?"

Porco glanced at her, she tilted her head to the side, waiting for him to answer the question. He almost felt bad for lying to her. But she didn't seem to be affected by his lie, rather. . . curious about him?

"It doesn't really matter." Porco shifted in her bed, scowling at the page. "Right. We need—"

"Come on," said Pieck. Her kind smile remained, aware of the changing subject. "It will be interesting to hear about it."

Porco thought for a moment before saying, "From a recipe book. But not the shitty one you have."

A glint of excitement appeared within her weary eyes. "Do you still have it?"

"It's gone for a long time."

Pieck's shoulders slumped downward, disappointment filled her whole. "Such a pity. I would like to read it for once."

"Don't you think you need to lay for a second?" said Porco. He began to write the ingredients on the upper part of the page. "Your presence beside me troubles my concentration."

Pieck let her whole body fall into the mattress, a sof puff followed by it. She stretched her hands over her head, yawning into the air.

"You should sleep," said Porco. "I can get this done by myself."

"But Zeke told me to cook," claimed Pieck, placing her hands above her chest. "I don't want to disappoint him."

A scoff left his mouth. "It's only a cooking, Pieck. Not a goddamn mission."

"All the same," said Pieck lowly.

When he went quiet, she continued, "Talk to me, Pokko."

Porco stopped himself from writing, he scanned his scrabbling words to see if something was missing. "About what?"

"Anything."

"Well," Porco continued to fill the page with the ingredients again. "Let's see. If you want to make little cheese sparrows. . . "

He went on and on about the ingredients and how the little cheese sparrows should've been made. Pieck didn't interrupt or utter a word, merely listened to his voice as he kept speaking about the food. As he finished writing the recipe, Porco glanced at her, only to find slumber swallowed her whole; with her eyelids closed, chest fell and rose in a slow rhythm, legs hanging around the bed edge.

Porco put the notebook and pen above her scattered books. Then, in a very slow motion, he placed her legs on the lower part of her bed, covering her whole body with the mattress. Underneath the blanket, Pieck shifted to the side, hugging her bolster in a dreaming state.

He was careful enough to not bring any noise as he went outside, closing the door quietly. With her notebook in his grip, he passed into the corridor, entering the kitchen and began to cook on his own.

Though the curiosity within him flared, he couldn't bring himself to sneakily open her privacy on the very first page of her notebook, and decided to focus on making breakfast instead.

To his surprise, Reiner was the first to find him preparing for food in the kitchen. He gave Porco a raising eyebrow, watching him placing the little cheese sparrows into an empty bowl.

Annoyed, Porco said, “What?”

Reiner merely stared him. His disheveled blonde hair and wrinkled military jacket made him entirely look like a fool. "Since when did you cook?"

"Since when did you _care_? Do you want this or not?"

Reiner shrugged. He took the nearest chair and bit a spoon from the bowl ahead him. Though he kept eating, his expression remained plain and unreadable, not uttering words about Porco's cooking at all.

Zeke came with his usual rounded glasses and ruffled grey hair. He didn't look surprised to find Porco and Reiner in the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of warm tea. "Where's Pieck?"

"Who knows? Sleeping probably."

A knowing look passed over Reiner's face. He put the spoon down into his bowl, and darted toward to sink to wash the dishes. Porco sensed Reiner might know something he didn't, it surely pissed him off.

Zeke brought the glass to his lips, drinking in silent. He sank himself into the chair, saying, "I thought she was the one who cooked?"

"She already helped me with the recipe. Her presence is no longer needed."

As Porco finished putting the little cheese sparrows into the last bowl, Pieck emerged from the door, yawning audibly. She was still dressed in her military jacket, with her rough hair and sleepy eyes, and a crutch underneath her armpit. A warm feeling of tranquility calmed his mind, though he wasn't certain why.

At the presence of Porco, she blinked.

"Good morning," commenced Pieck. She took the seat before Zeke, and peeked at her bowl. A soft smile spread across her lips. "It looks good."

Porco placed the pan into the sink, he let Reiner washed his own dishes and seated near Pieck. "You were the one who wanted this."

She sniffed at the aromatic smell of cheese sparrows, and took a bit for her own. Wiggling her toes, she hummed in delight. "Zeke, you should've told Porco to cook more. His cooking is truly heavenly."

Porco snorted. "You have a role on this, too. Don't be so dramatic."

Zeke flashed a faint smirk as he began to drink. "Is that so?"

As Pieck seated by Porco, the trio began to eat while talking solemnly about their future mission. Reiner left the kitchen room as he finished the dishes, claiming he wanted to look for fresh air. In silent moments, Porco glanced at Pieck, watching how she enjoyed his cooking with her brightened expression. At least his plan of luring her into sleep had succeeded.

 

* * *

 

 

It was past midnight, and Porco didn't want to sleep.

He had been staring blankly at the ceiling, thinking of the possible scenarios that flared within his mind. Though his weary body screamed for a proper rest, his own mind insisted to stay awake. He didn't want to sleep yet. Not with the presence of a newest notebook above his table. Not without giving it to Pieck first.

A few paces from his bed, Reiner whimpered in his sleep. Annoyed, Porco brought himself to stand, cloaking his whole body under his military jacket. He stared at the notebook; fresh and new with its black leather cover; thinking of how Pieck might react. He buried the thought deeper into his mind, then grabbed the notebook before darting toward the door.

As he opened the door, the sight of dimming lamps greeted him, and the darkness swallowed him whole as he walked.

The image of Pieck's dark circles under her sleepy eyes haunted his mind. Porco couldn't help but wonder whether she was sleeping or not at the moment. However, as he reached her door, it was slightly opened with a key hanging around the keyhole. Porco frowned, peeking through the door to find Pieck.

There was no Pieck. The room was soulless and empty without any person in it; with its yellow lamp on the ceiling and reading table, and scattered books everywhere. It was past midnight. But Pieck did not even try to sleep at all, her bed was perfectly neat and ordered with a folded mattress above it.

Hollowness grew inside his chest, clawing every inch of his bone. He held the notebook tight in his grip, and began to search for Pieck in the endless corridor near her room. 

 _She can't be far_ , he thought insistently. _She_ will not _be far._

A thousand terrifying images of Pieck laying on the floor and bleeding red appeared within his mind. He tried to shove them far from him, calming himself continuously that Pieck was too clever for her own good. The woman he'd known wouldn't be foolish enough to wound herself, especially in her home.

Porco halted in his heels as he caught a withering shadow, lurking on the floor. He squinted for a better view, slowly approaching the murky figure amidst the dimming lights and darkening corridor.

His heart stopped for a beat. "Pieck?"

In her crawling position, she swung her head upward, staring through Porco with her hollowed eyes. Though Porco often found her creeping on the floor, he flinched as her gaze piercing into his, it made him uncomfortable in the oddest way.

Blinking rapidly, she uttered, "Pokko?"

"What are you doing?" He bent over, helping her to stand by circling her hand over his shoulder, whilst shoving the notebook into his pocket. "You should be sleeping."

Pieck resisted as he brought her to stand, holding her whole body tight. "No. I don't want to—" She shut her mouth close, not wanting to let her words utter furthermore.

"It's past midnight." Porco hissed at her. "Tomorrow's going to be a rough day. You should rest."

"Why are you not sleeping, anyway?" The high tone within her voice made his whole body snap in surprise. It was very unusual of her to speak in such harsh fashion. "Why, Porco? Are you going to make another excuses again?"

It would be irritating to hear his nickname being slipped out of her tongue. However, when hearing Pieck calling him by first name, it was oddness that met his hearing. A foreign title that happened to be his own name.

Porco heaved a low sigh. He wouldn't want to trouble her by telling about Ymir's memories, he just couldn't do that. "I want to give you something."

She kept staring at the ground, flashing a pained look downward. "You can give me it right now."

"I want to escort you toward your room first."

Pieck turned to give him a frown. However, as he led her to her room, she followed him in silence, and didn't even try to resist anymore.

They finally halted before the room. But Pieck stared at the door for a few moments with a conflicted expression flashed across her face. Porco didn't understand of the invisible wound that she had to bear alone, perhaps it was the reason why she couldn't find slumber easily during night.

"What is it that you want to give me?" Her tone slowly became much more low and soft. It gave him a sense of tranquility within his chest.

Porco shivered. "It's cold outside. I think it will be better if I give it in your room."

Pieck watched him for a while, trying to search for any fraud statement he'd uttered. Porco didn't know whether she knew if he lied or not, but she opened the door nevertheless.

After Porco closed the door, he helped her to sit on the edge of bed, whilst he slumped into the mattress beside her. He touched his pocket for the notebook, its presence hummed under his touch.

Pieck tilted her head to see him, her dark circles visible under the yellow light of lamp above. "So?"

Porco hesitated for a moment, though he managed to bring the notebook from his pocket and place it above her thighs. Pieck widened her eyes slightly at the sudden presence of newest book, touching the cover to feel its leather skin under her touch.

"I thought your notebook is quiet old," said Porco, fearing for her next reaction. "If you don't like it—"

"It's wonderful." Pieck shifted her softening gaze onto him, it gave a warm sensation within his chest. "Thank you."

Flustered, Porco faced the wall before him. The air burned his neck, heating every inch of his skin. "You like it?" asked Porco lowly.

"Of course," said Pieck. At this time, Porco managed to glance at her again, tracing every part of her delicate features with his gaze. "Where did you get it?"

"Somewhere," grinned Porco childishly. "It's a surprise. I don't want to tell you."

Pieck returned his grin with a soft smile of her own. But it soon fell into a thin line of her lips. "Did you read my notes?"

Raising an eyebrow, Porco uttered, "What notes?"

"The ones on my old notebook. Since you took it for cooking, I suppose you must know."

His heart throbbed. "No. Why would I?"

She slumped her shoulders downward. A relief passed over her face. "You could've read it. But you didn't."

Porco didn't know what to say afterward. "Pieck—"

"You were right. Tomorrow will be a tiring day for both of us," interrupted Pieck. She kept staring at the notebook even when she began to say, "You need to sleep, Pokko. Thank you for this gift."

Porco looked at her for a beat, trying to absorb the things she said. "What? I just gave you this and you immediately dismiss me?"

Pieck lowered her head. A few of her strands fell upon her cheek, shadowing her features. "You've heard me."

Fury burned across his skin. "What the hell is wrong with you? Minutes ago you didn't want to sleep, and now you kick me out of your room with a nonsense reason."

Her shoulders flinched at his harsh tone. "If I remember correctly, you've also said the same thing to me."

"I didn't—" Porco groaned in peeved. He ruffled his hair in anger, trying to recall his previous scenarios of him giving the notebook to her. He hadn't expected it would turn this way. "Look." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes tight. "You're not the only one who have trouble in your sleep."

When he opened his eyes again, he felt Pieck watching him, but he kept his gaze ahead, thinking of his previous nightmares. "I don't want to close my eyes, and going into that Ymir girl's memory again." He paused for a beat, taking a deep air. "I can see the blood and corpses through her eyes, and feel the tears on her cheeks as if they were mine. I saw how she often ran in the dark streets of Paradis, hiding behind the wall with fear hissing into her ears. And—"

Pieck intertwined her hand into his. He flinched at the sudden touch, but he loosened his grip as she caressed his forearm gently with her other hand. It was strange, for a small woman such as Pieck to hold a greatest power by only keeping his hand within her soft grip. Porco was weak under her touch. But he would let himself drown if it took him seeing the delicate smile across her lips over and over again.

"You're not her," she murmured, slowly resting her small head above his shoulder. He froze, steadying his heavy breath as her strands touched his side chin. "There's only one Porco Galliard, and your memory are yours alone. Not a girl of the previous shifter. Not the ones before that too. Porco Galliard doesn't live in the streets of Paradis Island. He is a strong warrior of Marley who fights for this country, and the bravest man I've ever known."

Porco tightened his grip around her delicate hand, whilst she placed her other hand atop his forehead, warming his skin underneath her touch. He tilted his head to rest his cheek above her head, slowly closing his eyes. Her words kept echoing throughout his mind, easing the ruthless waves in his chest. "She keeps haunting me."

"I know," she whispered.

For a beat, she kept quiet, holding the words to spill from her tongue. When she began to speak again, Porco listened, "I don't want to sleep and find myself awake in somewhere I never intended." She paused for a beat. "I often crawled toward the kitchen room and ate some of the food. At first, I thought it just happened for once or twice that I didn't really need to bother about it. But it's getting worse than I expected."

He opened his eyes, watching the small lamp above her rounded table dimming in the darkness.

"Zeke found me laying on the kitchen floor at dawn, with food scattering all over the place," she continued, sinking her head deeper under his chin. "He told me to put an alarm and wake earlier, since it will be easy to control this unhealthy sleeping habit. It made me wake earlier, but only to find myself turning off the alarm and sleep again. The next moment happened all the same, with Colt or Zeke tried to wake me in an unknown place that is not my room."

Slowly, Porco caressed her head, trying to calm her mind. Pieck was quiet under his touch, and her grip on his other hand loosened.

"I didn't like cooking," she admitted. "But it's the only way to break this habit of mine. Zeke gave me this recipe book, saying it was worth to try. He's right. I woke up earlier, and immediately got up because I had to cook for the others. This habit slowly disappears, though sometimes it will appear anyhow. I know—" She let out a weak laugh. "I know that my cooking tastes bad. Zeke never told me, but it was clear why he always avoided to eat my food. I truly despise it when he urged me to do it furthermore when I know that I'm not certainly good at it."

"It's not true," insisted Porco. "You're not to blame. Zeke gave you the wrong recipe book, it's so full of shit. No one would be able to cook with its badly written method and false ingredients."

Pieck shifted, distancing herself from his shoulder to look up at him. She curled her lips into a soft, weak smile. "You've been nothing but good to me, Pokko. But there's no need to—"

"I'm not lying," interrupted Porco. "Look, I lied to you about not knowing to cook and all, but this time I said the truth. I've found my ways to learn cooking by a right recipe book, and the methods are mostly trustable. That one Zeke gave to you is crap, trust me on this."

Chuckling lowly, she brought her hand to touch his cheek. He held his breath as her small thumb swept the side of his nose, gentle and soft on his skin. "You're truly unbelievable, aren't you?" She closed the distance between them, placing her forehead into his. "What other lies have you uttered to me, Pokko?"

In the low light, the tired wrinkles underneath her sleepy eyes darkened, and her skin was paler at this close distance. As Porco traced every part of her features, Pieck slowly closed her eyelids, pressing her forehead further toward his, and their nose met.

"I forgot," said Porco lowly. "I've lied to you many times."

Smiling thinly, Pieck kissed him.

And the world stilled for a while.

Her lips tasted of aromatic teas and sugar coated sweets; soft and delicate, an addicting drug in his mouth. It drained the life out of him, weakening his whole body. He found himself wanting more and more; of her gentle caresses and touches, of her soft kisses and smiles. And he would gladly start a war for another taste of her lips.

 


End file.
